Tag Archive for: geography

The geography of American power

The United States is a secure power. Situated in a hemispheric citadel, and protected by wide oceans, the US could comfortably withdraw from being the arbiter of the geopolitical fate of Eurasia and still enjoy a significant margin of security. Such a US could still project power around the globe. However, it would do so selectively, in the pursuit of narrowly defined interests and objectives. It would need few, if any, allies.  It would remain a powerful global economic actor—fuelled by a massive domestic market, deep private wealth, leading edge innovation, and high population growth.

A locationally withdrawn US would have to be willing to accept the risk of the likely emergence of a hegemonic power in Eurasia. Such a hegemon would be able to establish strategic and military dominion over the population, resources, markets, infrastructure, and polities of Eurasia – from Vladivostok in Pacific Russia to Lisbon in Portugal, and from Nordkapp in Norway to Cape Town in South Africa. It could do so by way of intimidation, coercion, and leverage, where this was necessary. However, such sharp strategies would not be necessarily needed in significant measure. Many nations of Eurasia would probably resign themselves to a new strategic reality, as they came to accept, over time, the reality of economic and military overlordship.

Such a hegemon would become the leading global power. The goal of ‘making America great again’ would ring hollow in a world where a Eurasian hegemon dominated the heartland of the world, and where it could almost always deliver a ‘better deal’ to nations under its dominion—whether or not they were pleased with the terms of the deal.

If the US was not willing to accept its own subordination, it would have to continue to engage ‘forward’ in the affairs of Eurasia, including by way leveraging the significant economic and military resources of the European Union, Britain, Japan, India, Australia, South Korea, Canada, and others to contain the emergence of such a hegemonic power.

This would be a sound geopolitical strategy. Geopolitics is the intersection of geography and power. It is concerned with questions of world order, national power, and coalitions of power. Separately, and irrespectively of whether or not the US continues to engage ‘forward’, there is a related geostrategic issue that confronts Washington. Geostrategy is the intersection of geography and capability, and especially military power. Whether the US withdraws, or continues to lean forward, it must build a sea-air barrier around Eurasia. It has to do so for its own defence and security, and in order to project power into, and around, Eurasia, should it have to do so.

In order to explain the idea of such a sea-air barrier, we need to start with a map.  Specifically, the map projection that US geographer Richard Edes Harrison made famous in 1942, which is known as the ‘One World, One War’ map. Harrison argued that on the traditional Mercator projection of the world, the US appeared to be isolated from the two major wartime strategic theatres of Europe and Asia. Harrison argued that while the Mercator projection was useful in the age of sail and steam, with the advent of air power, an ‘azimuthal equidistant projection’, pivoted around the North Pole, was required to better depict the strategic position of the US in the 1940s. Such a spherical conception of the Earth, viewed from above the North Pole, would better reveal the strong points, the sea areas, and the lines of approach that the US would have to secure and protect for its own defence, as well as for broader strategic purposes. With the coming of the missile age in the 1950s, Harrison’s theories were proven correct.

At the same time as Harrison was working on his maps, Nicolas J. Spykman was coming to similar conclusions, which he laid out in his last book, The Geography of the Peace, in 1944. For Spykman, the geography of Eurasia and the Western Hemisphere was the engine room of history. He argued that history was the eternal process of great powers clashing with one another in the rimlands of Eurasia—that is, Europe, the Middle East, the Indian sub-continent, East Asia, and the littoral ‘inner seas’ of the Mediterranean, the South China Sea, the Philippine Sea, and the East China Sea. The recurring question for US strategy would always be the same—how to control the rimlands and littoral seas of Eurasia, in order to contain and, if necessary, defeat emerging powers, and whether to do so from afar, or in close?

Adapting this thinking, we can today describe a modern sea-air barrier around Eurasia as a series of strong points and areas of control that trace a line around these contested areas. Control of this barrier would allow the US to protect itself from approaching threats, and to more securely project power, whether in its own defence, or for broader purposes, such as protecting its allies.

What line would such a sea-air barrier follow? Starting along the length of Canada’s Arctic coast, the line would run through Greenland, Iceland, the Faroe Islands (which belong to Denmark), and Scotland, an area that forms the ‘GIUK Gap’ (to use its Cold War title).  The US needs to control the GIUK Gap, and have access to Svalbard (which belongs to Norway), in order to contain the threat of Russian sea power in the Atlantic.  From Britain, the line would run to Gibraltar and then to the British bases in Cyprus, so that the US could access the Mediterranean and protect the northern end of the Suez Canal. Through the canal, the line would run through the Red Sea to Diego Garcia, which is the most important US strategic base in the Indian Ocean, vital for projecting power into the Middle East, Central Asia, and eastern Africa.

From there the line would run to Cocos (Keeling) and Christmas Islands, which are Australian offshore territories.  The line would then run through Exmouth, Darwin, and Townsville (which are all in Australia), up to Manus Island in Papua New Guinea, and then to Guam and other key US island territories in the Pacific, as well as the US state of Hawaii.  Finally, the line would run along the Aleutian chain, and then through the US state of Alaska proper, and before linking with the starting point of the line, Canada’s Arctic coast.

From the security of this barrier, the US could project power and protect its approaches, especially in the North Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Arctic Ocean, protect its trade routes and its undersea infrastructure, secure itself in relation to space warfare and missile attack, launch military operations in Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia and Africa, rescue its citizens, and strike at its adversaries.

Control of the barrier would require the sustainment of a few trusted relationships, especially with Canada, Britain, and Australia (which would become the CAUKUS grouping), and with Norway and Denmark. The barrier would be built upon a global network of key points of presence, and would not require the US to hold significant amounts of territory, or maintain an extensive network of expensive overseas bases. Coupled with its nuclear forces, and its space and cyber defences, the barrier would render the US virtually invulnerable, outside of a massive, planet-destroying nuclear strike, which would also see the attacker destroyed.

Australia’s geography is an integral part of the barrier, as it provides a vital base for US operations around the rimlands and littoral waters of southeastern Eurasia, and a swing point for power projection from the Pacific Ocean into the Indian Ocean. The immense value of Australia’s strategic geography is better appreciated in Washington and Beijing than it is in Canberra. In any US-China military conflict, PLA strikes would be conducted against Australian bases and facilities, including in the southern parts of Australia, the latter of which would provide depth and security for US-led coalition operations in the Indo-Pacific region. The recent PLAN task group mission to waters off Australia would have had as its principal military operational objective the conduct of land attack rehearsal activities, targeting bases, facilities, and infrastructure across Australia.

The Western Hemisphere is also crucial for the US from a geostrategic point of view.  Even with the sea-air barrier in place, the US would not be fully secure were Mexico, the Caribbean (especially Cuba), Central America, the Panama Canal zone, northern South America (especially Venezuela), and Brazil to be in various states of dysfunctionality, or were they to be actively hostile to the US, perhaps to the extent of hosting significant Russian or Chinese forces, or both. Further south, the Falkland Islands are critically located for sea control in the South Atlantic, should the Panama Canal become inoperable. Hemispheric defence on the near side of the sea-air barrier would therefore remain an important task for the US.

Whether the US remains forward, or it consolidates itself in its citadel, it has to secure this sea-air barrier.  Being forward makes more sense, as it allows the US to create more favourable strategic positions of strength, to the benefit of US trade, technology, and investment, and for its own security and defence. Being forward is in the interests of the US. However, being forward means that the US has to rely on more partners, most of whom have not been willing, until recently at least, to take on a greater share of the common burden of defence and security. Most have instead preferred to expand social benefits for their own citizens, and pursue economic development, while selfishly consuming US security.

Put another way, the US would be more secure if it were able to control the rimlands and littorals of Eurasia on the far side of its protective oceans—in places such as Japan, Taiwan, The Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, India, the Gulf States, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Poland, Ukraine, the Baltics, and the Nordic countries. However, such a grand strategy would require constant alliance management, and a willingness on the part of US allies and partners to be prepared to significantly enhance their military capabilities, and to do more to counter the emergence of a hegemonic power in Eurasia. Were the US to decide one day that it could effectively secure itself behind its sea-air barrier, withdraw from Eurasia’s contested zones, and partner with a handful of geostrategically critical allies, many of these beneficiaries of US security would long for the glory days of US primacy and preponderance.

Oz strategists: Paul Dibb

Image courtesy of Flickr user Peter Miller

Starting as a geographer, Paul Dibb became one of Australia’s great strategists.

The discipline of geography is vital to the Dibb understanding of power, strategy and defence planning. For Dibb, geography disciplines strategy in the same way that you’re not discussing defence until you’re talking dollars.

In one of my first radio interviews with Paul—35 years ago—on the Soviet Union and the Baltic states, he sat with the atlas in his lap, summoning thoughts via his eyes and hands on the map.

Maps matter in the Dibb universe. And his understanding of Australia’s geography has profoundly shaped strategy. See Dibb’s key map representing ‘Australia’s regional security interests’ from the Dibb Report, the 1986 Review of Australia’s Defence Capabilities.

This map has been the terrain for wars that have raged through Canberra for decades. The arguments can ascend towards the arcane, but big decisions and dollars and careers are in play.

In the conceptualising and understanding of Australian defence, Paul Dibb has been as important as the best defence ministers of his time. That means his impact has been more enduring than a lot of recent defence ministers.

Dibb is accused of geographic determinism. Others mean this as an insult. He embraces geography as the tool that orders much else, enabling Australia to tell the difference between broad interests and vital interests. Strategic geography is the iron discipline.

Key Dibb ideas (drawing strongly on his 1986 report):

  • Australia’s ‘area of direct military interest’—10% of the globe—stretches east-west from New Zealand to the Cocos Islands, and north-south from Indonesia to the Southern Ocean.
  • Australia’s ‘sphere of primary strategic interest’ encompasses Southeast Asia and the South Pacific
  • A layered strategy of denial in the area of direct military interest
  • The sea–air gap is the key to Defence of Australia because it’s ‘a formidable barrier for any enemy’. ‘Our most important defence planning concern is to ensure that an enemy would have substantial difficulty in crossing the sea and air gap.’
  • Navy and Air Force get priority and the big bucks, while Army comes third
  • Beyond the areas of direct and primary interest, Australia should ‘make a modest military contribution in support of our more distant diplomatic interests and the military efforts of others. But this should be seen essentially as a gesture of support… not as a contribution that could materially affect the outcome. Our forces shouldn’t be specifically structured or equipped to undertake such tasks.’
  • Depending on what’s happening in Indonesia, the archipelago is Australia’s ‘arc of instability’ (as it was after Suharto fell) or, as it could be today, Australia’s ‘strategic shield’
  • Australian defence self-reliance and the US alliance aren’t in conflict, but complementary. Australia alone couldn’t afford what the alliance offers in intelligence, weapons, logistics, science and technology. ‘But there’s no requirement for Australia to become involved in US contingency planning for global war.’

Canberra’s rolling Dibb wars are gathered in one volume, in the fine ANU tradition of honouring the vertical man rather than the horizontal man. The essays in honour of Paul Dibb, ‘Geography, Power, Strategy & Defence’ can be found for free here and all the battles are recounted.

For Army, Dibb was a swear word. The counter-arguments were many: Dibb’s regionalism versus globalisation or Dibb’s geography-based defence of Australia versus the Army’s expeditionary tradition of going far afield in support of big allies. And what had Dibb’s geographic obsession to say of 9/11 and the George W. ‘war on terrorism’?

As Geoff Barker writes, the Dibb view is widely criticised ‘by those who support the creation of heavily armoured Australian expeditionary defence forces capable of deploying to distant theatres and aggressively supporting the US in contingency planning for global war.’

Kim Beazley says Dibb was a lightning rod for ‘brutal’ debates, but he made a significant contribution to Australia’s national defence: ‘His legacy remains real. It endures.’

One other bit of geography. Paul Dibb comes from a mining village in Yorkshire. In the definition and discovery of the strategic meaning of Oz geography, Captain James Cook  is the most important Yorkshireman; Dr P. Dibb, AO, is second.

From his time living in Yorkshire, Bill Bryson concluded: ‘I’ve never understood why Yorkshire people have this terrible reputation for being mean-spirited and uncharitable. I’ve always found them to be decent and open, and if you want to know your shortcomings, you won’t find more helpful people anywhere.’

Dibb exactly—he still thinks a butty constitutes food. Using Yorkshire cricket as the template, Paul is Geoff Boycott in defence and Fred Trueman in attack. And in attack or defence, he delivers with a grin.

The Dibb characteristics described by Des Ball are, ‘the mateship, the bluntness, the outspokenness, the combativeness.’

If the stakes are important, the energy must match the strength of the logic.

He enjoys a fight as much as a feed—and he knows both work better with a glass in hand.

In the phrase ‘robust public debate’, Paul Dibb has all bases covered. The word ‘public’ matters.

For most of the 20th century, Oz defence was Top Secret Stuff—to talk was treachery.  One of Paul Dibb’s many contributions to Oz strategy was to shred the ‘Secret Canberra Men’s Business’ conducted deep inside the Defence Department.

Dibb knows that strategy is both performance art and dark art. Much must be done—and explained—in the open, and Paul Dibb’s life as public servant and public intellectual has helped remake the role of the Oz strategist.